


Baby Steps

by Mandibles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And their daughter is named after Mabel from Gravity Falls, And ugh I think this might the schmoopiest thing I've written, Baby Fic, Because yes, Damn them for being disgustingly cute, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 11:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandibles/pseuds/Mandibles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson didn't seem like the kid-liking type to Stiles, you know? That is until they actually get a kid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Steps

When the idea of adoption first arose, Stiles figured that he would end up being the mother hen, you know? Sure, he loves Jackson to pieces—which, yeah, is still a weird thing to say—but, he doesn’t really seem like the kid type. Or the think-about-anyone-besides-himself type. Plus, there’s still that hefty bit of baggage with Jackson himself being adopted which is still a sore spot for him. Yet, somehow, when Stiles brings up the topic, the possibility of the two of them adopting, being parents, Jackson is all over the idea. Like really, really all over the idea.

It sends Stiles reeling, the bedroom designing, the baby clothes buying, the fucking baby proofing, up to the day their baby girl—a year old already and the most precious little being on the planet—ends up in Jackson’s arms. The asshole, douchenozzle image of Jackson that’s remained in the back of Stiles’ mind past high school, college, grad school, goes fuzzy, practically indecipherable. Especially when he wanders downstairs early one morning and finds Jackson and Mabel already in the living room.

Jackson is settled in the rocking chair Scott had gotten them as a gag gift really, Mabel fast asleep in his arms, making quiet noises against his chest. And, man, seeing the two of them like this, seeing Jackson in the faint light of morning streaming through the window, watching their daughter with such pure affection and care and _love_ . . . Well, damn. It’s a slam of domesticity Stiles didn’t expect; he always figured that Jackson making coffee in the morning would be the closest they could get to homey.

Just . . . damn.

“Hey,” Stiles whispers, slowly padding over. He runs a hand through Mabel’s dark curls and Jackson offers a rare, tender smile that makes Stiles’ heart skip a beat or twelve. “What’re you and the chubby bunny doing up so early, huh?”

Laughing lightly, Jackson shrugs, shifts Mabel in his arms. When Stiles makes a silent offer to take her, Jackson hesitates, but eventually gives in with a short, “Careful.”  Mabel huffs quietly during the transfer, but quickly eases into Stiles’ embrace, her cheek smooshed against Stiles. This drives him crazy, looking at her and knowing she’s his—theirs—their beautiful, beautiful baby girl who barely stirs when he presses a kiss to her forehead.

He glances up and Jackson’s eyes say he feels the same.

The rocking chair creaks when Jackson rests back, clears his throat lightly. “I heard her over the baby monitor,” he says simply.

Stiles frowns. Oh. “Oh, man, you should have woke me up or something—”

Jackson waves him off. “No, it was nothing. She was just being fussy.” He scratches at the stubble on his chin, suddenly looking very tired even as a smile finds his lips. “She gets that from you, you know,” he accuses.

“Probably,” Stiles agrees with a short laugh, leaning down to kiss Jackson’s forehead, too. “Now get to bed. I’ve got this.”

Nodding, Jackson pushes out of the chair. Before he makes his way upstairs, though, he curls a hand around the back of Stiles’ head and pulls him into a soft, wet, gentle, warm kiss that startles all the air from Stiles’ lungs. But, it’s over quickly and Stiles sucks in a breath as they nuzzle each other’s faces, noses grazing.

“Thank you,” Jackson breathes.

“For what?”

“For—For this. For her. For everything. Everything.” He kisses a line down Stiles’ neck then buries his face in his shoulder, probably taking in the scent of _home_ and _family_ and _pack_ there. “I love you,” he adds quietly, offhandedly.

That gives Stiles pause; it’s not something Jackson says often and he soaks it in for all it’s worth. His voice only cracks a little bit when he says, “I love you, too. So much,” he finds himself adding, insisting. “I love you, I love you, I love you. Always.”

Stiles’ eyes slide shut as he ducks his head, takes in Mabel’s soft, sleepy noises and Jackson’s quiet sniffles. Even after these few years, there’s still so much they’re learning about each other, but they’re finding their way. She’s helping them find the way.


End file.
